Hurricanoe Queen Liz Hits Virginia Like A Storm!

No one really knows what to expect when British royalty hits American shores but a raucous stand-up routine shocked royals watchers on both sides of the lake! The usually staid and quite formal Queen Elizabeth the Second walked with perfect poise to the microphone at her greeting ceremony surrounding the 400th anniversary of Jamestown. Throngs of reverent admirers paused in respectful silence, only to hear Queen Liz croon a full version of:

"Happy Birthday Jamestown" in a mock Marilyn Monroe seductress voice. This satirical start proved truly to be only the beginning: "Boy am I glad to be back at Jamestown. The last time I was hear that cad John Rolfe dumped me for that slut Pocahontas! No wonder he changed his name to Smith! But really folks, there's nothing like visiting a place named after the first Queen Elizabeth. You do know Virginians that your beautiful colony, er, I mean, state did not get its name from your ladies' virtue. In fact had that been the case we might be standing on soil called Incestlandia. Just kidding, but what is the story with all these little white girls giving me flowers. When I visited 50 years ago it must have been their granddaughters on the reception line. You Virginians hide your darkies almost as well as we Brits.

But it's true your lovely state gets its name from the Virgin Queen. Of course she had more conservatives than a stable of DC call girls. Maybe you should be more true to history and rename your province Essex's Country (As in Hamlet's infamous question to Ophelia) .

Speaking of country matters, how about those elections, not the ones Bush stole but the US and the UK midterms-talk about turning the old boys out in the cold-one of the reasons my family has never seen much value in the vote-After all blood is thicker than campaign contributions. . .

Well you subjects have been great, truly I thank you from the bottom of my heart and please come to England. . . As long as you never cross me you'll be safe and sound driving in our tunnels. . .